Apr
Posted on 17th April 2008
My friend Bob is a cop and clown in Cleveland, my native city. Bob and I first met in high school when he tried to charge me money to get into a party at a friend’s house when the friend in question’s parents were out of town. I refused to pay Bob’s made-up entry fee and we have been friends ever since. To this day, he remains one of the nicest and scariest people I have ever known.
Recently, Bob went to visit family and friends in Thailand and Singapore. One thing led to another and next thing he knew, Bob was in a Buddhist temple getting a Thai Buddhist protection tattoo from some Buddhist monks who were totally in the temple (a popular monk hangout). The tattoo is only given to people the monks consider to be warriors (e.g. cops. I am not sure if Bob’s clown status would have been enough) and is meant to protect them from getting messed up by assorted weapons (i.e. guns, knives, hard candies thrown at extreme speeds when you least expect it). It’s pretty cool. You can get the full and admittedly more academic scoop here. Video documentation is above.
Bob is a warrior and he also has an incredible mustache. I am proud of him for those and other reasons. You also get to see him with his shirt off in this video, a treat for the ladies. I hope you enjoy it so much.
Apr
Posted on 15th April 2008
Recently, during my ongoing and tireless research on various topics of great importance, I stumbled upon an article on the Internet about “soaplands,” a type of Japanese brothel where men can and do take baths with prostitutes. Now, before I go any further let me just say that I know what you’re thinking- Dave is totally planning a trip to Japan so he can take a bath with a Japanese prostitute. And while I do admit that that does sound pretty awesome on at least five or six different levels, it is simply not the case. For starters, I am generally opposed to the idea of paying for sex (at least with actually currency anyway). Jesus hates it and I can’t imagine those goodbyes getting any less awkward over time, so- for now anyway- I will continue living the whore-free lifestyle, boring as it might be. Also, the soaplands of Japan don’t let foreigners in anyway, so it was never really any option for me unfortunately.
Anyway, as the story goes the soaplands came into being as a way of getting around the not-so-strict prostitution laws of Japan. Japanese law defines prostitution as the commercial offering of genital penetration in exchange for money. This does not include anything that might take place within the confines of a “private agreement” between a man and a woman nor does it include sticking the donger in someone’s mouth or butt or anything else that people might do that might require them to have to take a bath at some point. As a result, the soaplands are able to operate without the cops getting too worked up about it, which, of course, is really great news for Japanese guys who like to take baths with prostitutes.
As far as what actually goes down at the soaplands, well, it’s pretty much all kinds of stuff apparently. For example, the Wikipedia article on the topic includes this particularly interesting passage: “After warming his body in the bath, the client then lies on the air mattress while the companion covers herself with liquid lotion for lubrication. Then she slides her body up and down client’s body and brushing his body with her pubic hair. This is called ‘awa odori,’ or ‘bubble dance,’ and its form of eroticism is considered to be of the highest quality.” I feel like this last bit might have been written by whomever answers the phones at the soaplands. Still, needless to say, they had me at “bubble dance.” Keep up the good work. It has been noted.
My favorite soapland fact has to do with how the name itself came about. Apparently, soaplands used to be called “toruko-buro”, an awesomely phonetic translation of Turkish bath. Then one day a Turkish person by the name of Nusret Sancakli got all worked up about things and started some sort of newspaper campaign bitching about Japanese women working in Turkish baths (It remains unclear whether Nusret preferred an all-Turkish staff or whether he was just against naughty stuff in general). The word “soapland” was the winning entry in a nationwide contest to give the brothels a new name. That last sentence is incredible on a number of levels. For starters, let me tip my hat to the people of Japan for having a nationwide contest to rename brothels in the first place. If that’s not a fine example of how you keep things fun, well, I guess I don’t know what is. The name soaplands isn’t too shabby either. Me- I would have gone with whorebaths, but admittedly that name doesn’t have any of the theme park connotations that soaplands has. It seems like it would be really hard not too have a good time at a place called “soapland.” Unless, of course, you don’t like taking baths with prostitutes, in which I don’t know what to tell you, pal. I suppose you don’t like Halloween or Bastille Day either. It’s been nice knowing you, Mr. No Fun!
Apr
Posted on 10th April 2008
I was speaking with fellow show business professional Dan Allen today on the topic of Postum, the elusive coffee substitute invented by cereal magnate C.W. Post and made available to the public from 1895 to 2007 (the year its production was controversially halted due to what insiders are calling “a shrinking demand”). As is often the case when one finds himself in the midst of a Postum discussion, the talk eventually turned to molasses, one of Postum’s primary and no-longer-secret ingredients (the others being bran, wheat, and corn dextrin). And it was during this talk of molasses that Dan hipped me to the Boston Molasses Disaster (or “Great Molasses Flood” as it also sometimes awesomely known), arguably one of the top nine or ten molasses-related disasters the New England area has ever seen. The year was 1919 and it was a wild scene to say the least.
As the story goes, the people of the North End neighborhood of “Beantown” (as it is known to “some”) were just going about their business as usual on January 15th of that year, exactly one day before the ratification of the 18th Amendment (which, of course, prohibited alcohol production and- ultimately- public groping and fun in general), when shit got seriously crazy all of a sudden. For as long as anyone could remember, the Purity Distilling Company had been maintaining an extremely large molasses tank at 529 Commerce Street. The tank held approximately 2,300,000 gallons (which is to say several shitloads) of the sticky sweet goo and on that fateful day it burst, sending mammoth waves of molasses (reportedly 8-to-15 feet tall, which is generally unheard of in molasses circles) raging throughout the streets at speeds up to 35 miles per hour (again, an extremely impressive molasses-related statistic) and with a force of 2 tons per square foot (I’m not sure what this means really but it certainly doesn’t sound good).
As you can probably imagine, when a couple million gallons of molasses is sent hurtling through the streets at such girth and velocity, well, nobody wins- not even the most diehard of molasses fans. By all accounts, molasses went everywhere, covering everything and everyone in its path. Horses, dogs, humans- no one was spared and pretty much no one had even guessed that their day would involve being bitchslapped by the gooey brown sugar cane byproduct. Author Stephen Puleo, who witnessed the whole grizzly yet delicious debacle, described it like this:
“Molasses, waist deep, covered the street and swirled and bubbled about the wreckage. Here and there struggled a form- whether it was animal or human being was impossible to tell. Only an upheaval, a thrashing about in the sticky mass, showed where any life was…. Horses died like so many flies on sticky flypaper. The more they struggled, the deeper in the mess they were ensnared. Human beings- men and women- suffered likewise. Anthony di Stasio, walking homeward with his sisters from the Michelangelo School, was picked up by the wave and carried, tumbling on its crest, almost as though he were surfing. Then he grounded and the molasses rolled him like a pebble as the wave diminished. He heard his mother call his name and couldn’t answer, his throat was so clogged with the smothering goo. He passed out, then opened his eyes to find three of his sisters staring at him.”
I find it’s hard to stay mad at a confectionary of any sort for very long, but on that infamous day in 1919 the people of Boston added molasses to their collective shitlist for a long time to come and with good reason. By the time the whole thing was over, approximately 150 people were injured and 21 people were killed altogether (easily the largest molasses-related death toll the city of Boston had ever known). Doctors and surgeons were forced to set up a makeshift hospital specially for the purpose of treating the many victims’ painful yet delicious wounds. And it took over 87,000 man hours to clean up the sticky brown mess. Needless to say, any time anyone in or around Boston so much as mentioned the word molasses after all that they were met with dirty looks, the gnashing of teeth, and the occasional shake of a fist in the air coupled with the fistshaker in question saying the word molasses out loud with marked disdain.
They say if you walk the streets of the North End neighborhood of Boston on a hot day, you can still catch a whiff of the killer molasses in the air. And naturally, it’s on these days most of all that the locals find themselves once again grappling with the “What the fuck happened?”-ness of it all. Some say the molasses tank burst just from having so much goddamn molasses in it. Others blame faulty rivets. Still others point their finger in the direction of foul play. The one thing they can all agree on, however, is this- molasses sure is tasty and even fun a lot of the time, but just not when there’s so damn much of it. Man, that shit was crazy. Seriously.
Apr
Posted on 9th April 2008
Since I am a person who likes things (e.g. God’s creatures, candy, the early works of Slick Rick, etc.), I thought I would weigh in today with a couple things I have been liking lately. My hope is that you will be moved to investigate them yourself and maybe even end up liking them in a manner not unlike how I like them. Then next time we meet you can totally be all like “Gosh, we really do seem to like the same things, don’t we? It’s a shame we didn’t meet sooner really. I mean, I just can’t leave Danny now, can I? Who will change his bag?” Then I will probably be all like “Yeah…it’s a shame. I guess we’ll always have the Port Authority men’s room though, won’t we?”
Anyway, the first thing I am totally liking today is the new album by Ginger from the popular rock band the Wildhearts, which is called “Market Harbour.” That is a picture of the album cover above. You should go buy it on iTunes or in a record store if you know where to find one. Ginger’s record is full of catchy rock music of the rock variety that is totally Dave-approved. Plus, he has cool hair, which is half the battle. Ginger is playing at Piano’s on Ludlow Street every Thursday in April. Go check him out and maybe I will run into you there and we can have that conversation referenced in paragraph one of this entry.
In other news, my friend Linda and some of her friends have started a granola company called Three Birds Bakery, which is giving a big “Fuck you!” to those corporate granola overlords who have been running the granola game for far too long now. I probably don’t need to tell you this, but most store-bought granola will kill you. More importantly, however, Three Birds granola is seriously good. You can buy it at Brooklyn Flea. Buy some Three Birds Bakery granola as soon as possible and take back the night on those corporate granola fucks over at (insert name of large cereal conglomerate here) once and for all! Also, you will have a nice breakfast, which is great for everybody as you will be happier and easier to deal with as a result.
Hmm, what else? Oh yeah, I was talking with my friend Beowulf a few days ago about the paintings of Robert Williams, founder of Juxtapoz magazine and dude-who-is-pretty-fucking-sweet-in-general. I feel like I haven’t seen Robert’s work around much in the last few years, but dammit I still really like it. It’s graphic, fun, sexy, gross, funny, and just enjoyable to look at in general. Some call it lowbrow art. But isn’t that the best kind really? Sometimes when you stoop really, really low, you find yourself on top in the end. Just ask Jesus. He totally partied with whores and vagabonds and we still talk about him to this day.
Here is something else that is totally popular for a reason:
Apr
Posted on 5th April 2008
My friend Leeza sent me this inspiring story about a man who was caught having sex with a picnic table. We all have needs but I tend to think this is pushing it a little bit. Fingering a picnic table? Sure- I could totally see that. But fucking a picnic table- that’s a whole other thing. I should point out that the picnic table above is not the same kind of picnic table that the man in the story was caught banging though. I guess without seeing the picnic table in question, it’s hard to say for sure whether or not I could keep myself from banging it. It may have been an especially sexy picnic table and if so I really can’t blame the man for totally banging it. Generally speaking, however, I tend not to have intimate relationships with furniture. I got a handjob from a recliner once, but I was drunk and regret it (slightly) to this day.
Apr
Posted on 4th April 2008
Fridays- am I right? Anyway, if you like the popular movie Stars Wars (or any of the other movies related to the popular Star Wars movie), Jedis, light sabres, the Internet, videos, Internet videos, me, flowing gowns, or just looking at your computer in general, then you should totally watch the video above in which I take Jedi lessons from a Jedi master because this video totally has all of the stuff that I just mentioned and then some! I hope you enjoy it so, so much.
Apr
Posted on 4th April 2008
R.E.M. was on the Colbert Report a couple nights ago and it was seriously great if you ask me. The fifteen year-old in me was really excited about it and the older guy typing this now is still pretty excited about it. I like rock music and these guys are totally good at it. The interview is really funny too. I can’t believe Peter Buck lets the other guitar player dude play the main riff in “Supernatural Superserious” though. I would be all like “No way, dude- I get to play the cool guitar riff. You’re not really even in the band! I mean, I don’t mean to be a dick about it, but come on- I’m frickin’ Peter Buck, goddammit!” Then again, Peter Buck is a classy guy. I admire that he takes the high road, even in matters of rock. It has been noted.
Apr
Posted on 2nd April 2008
I am not a stoner myself (I know, not that there’s anything wrong with that), but my friend Shirley Halperin is and the new book she wrote with her fellow former High Times editor Steve Bloom (also presumably a total stoner person) has totally got me thinking about becoming a total stoner so much that it’s not even fucking funny. I mean, I probably won’t just because everyone always thinks I’m stoned all the time anyway for some reason and I’m not sure if I want to find out what would happen if I were actually stoned all the time (Who’s got that kind of time when you’re trying to take over the world?), but either way their new book “Pot Culture: The A-Z Guide to Stoner Language and Life” is fun to read and look at and (I’m guessing) sit around and smoke pot in the presence of (yes, I know it’s bad to end a sentence with the word “of.” Shut up! Imagine what crazy grammatical shit I would be breaking out if I were all stooooooned, you god damn stoner!).
NOTE: I realize you might be thinking at this point that I am just promoting this book because my friend wrote it and to that I say “Fuck you! You cynic!” Wait, wait, that’s too harsh. Why am I yelling at you? You seem so nice and you’re here, here reading my blog, something that wasn’t even possible not too long ago (back in the ’90s).
Anyway, for starters the book has a cool cover (above). It will look nice sitting on your coffee table, nightstand, or toilet (basically wherever you might want to keep a book, it will look seriously good there). Also, it will let people know that this whole pot thing isn’t just some “phase” or whatever. This book lets people know that you are in it for the long haul. You bought a book about it for chrissakes! It is a regular part of your life. It’s like if tennis great John McEnroe bought a book about tennis or if I bought a book about banging hot chicks all the time or something- it just makes perfect sense.
Anyway, this book has a forward by Tommy Chong (the Chong in Cheech and Chong, arguably the most famous stoners of the 20th century), blunt-rolling lessons from the popular rapper Redman, and even an interview with the elusive Matthew McConaughey, the greatest actor of our time. I argue with confidence that no other publication of any sort has ever had these three things in it at the same time. In short, this book is from the future. And statistically speaking, you are probably on drugs of some sort so I really have no understanding of why you wouldn’t buy this book. In fact, if you don’t buy this book fuck you! Now you’ve really gone and pissed me off. You are totally lucky you’re not sitting in my apartment right now because I would totally kick you in the nuts if you were (unless you were a woman, of course, in which case I would simply tell you I liked your hair much better before you cut it or something. I would never physically hurt you. I am a classy guy).
For more info on this book of great importance, go here. And with any luck, when this book goes into a second printing they will totally quote me from this incredible review, which is why I would like to close with the following: This ain’t your mother’s book about pot! (See how I did that? I am an infinitely quotable human being. You’re welcome).
Apr
Posted on 1st April 2008
Hello again. Well, unfortunately I write today to confirm rumors that have been swirling around the Scandinavian press for some time now- my wildly popular television program “The King of Miami with Dave Hill”, which has thus far been coming to you in the futuristic high-definition format on the popular Mojo Network, has officially been cancelled. Yes, cancelled. Now just let that sink in for a moment. Okay, anyway this news comes as quite a blow both to me and the roughly five to six loyal viewers of my incredible television program (You know who you are and I know who you are and- dammit- I thank you for your viewing dedication) who stuck with me through all six spine-tingling episodes. The good news though is that you can continue to watch episodes of my incredible program on Hulu, a futuristic web portal that most people can’t even handle. I urge you to go there now and start watching my program while thinking to yourself “Are you fucking kidding me? Someone actually cancelled this program? What kind of world do we live in? Honey, hand me the knife- I am going to fucking kill myself.” But wait, hold up a second- don’t kill yourself. Mourn the death of my incredible television program, sure, but don’t do anything crazy. I will be back on television again soon (I promise you!) with another equally if not even more incredible yet obscure television program in the very near future (meaning before either of us dies. Okay, well, maybe before I die). You’re welcome in advance. I’m just trying to do my part.
Apr
Posted on 1st April 2008
Hi there. I should have mentioned this earlier, as in a few weeks ago, but there is a futuristic, music-centric new site here on the Internet called Fuzz that you should totally check out like a motherfucker. Not surprisingly, I am associated with the site in an official, futuristic capacity. So is Captain Sensible. Anyway, go check it out right now or I will lose my shit. Click here now.
